


Tam LIn

by Dawnblade_2015



Series: Court of thorns [2]
Category: Hellboy (Movies 2004-2008), Irish Mythology, Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:01:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawnblade_2015/pseuds/Dawnblade_2015
Summary: Wink has brought Nuada back to the Enclave, to be close to Pen for the birth of their child...Tam Lin.
Relationships: Jareth/Sarah Williams, Nuada (Hellboy)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Court of thorns [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670974
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	1. News of the Girl

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: The version of Tam Lin that is Pen's favorite is the one from Liege and leaf by Fairport convention.  
> A/N: being edited for clarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nuada returns to the enclave

**On The outskirts of a Sidhe enclave nestled within a mountain valley...**

Wink frowned as he met the King’s Courier in the woods outside the latest enclave he and the prince were staying. It had been little more than a month since they had left the Singer at the edge of the wood.  
“... She is pregnant.” The messenger said. “The healers have confirmed it, there is no doubt about it. His seed grows within her, an heir...”  
The Troll frowned, this was not good news, at least not on top of what he’d told the prince two weeks past. He still was not talking to him with any regularity.  
“... He’ll demand their deaths, you must make sure...” The messenger said. “The King wishes his son close for the Child’s birth...”  
The Troll nodded, he’d heard this admonishment enough times in the last year. He would keep his Prince from murdering the girl and the unborn.  
“If he attempts to harm her, I’m sure you know what to do.”  
Wink’s frown was answer enough, bring him back to the enclave even if he’d have to break him into pieces.

**In a clearing not far from where Wink was meeting with Balor’s messenger...**

Nuada worked his hands bloody. Stout linen still wrapped them from taking his anger out upon ancient oak when he’d been told about the girl he had eagerly bedded. The revulsion had sunk in the last two weeks as he tried, again and again, to purge her memory from him. Now his breath came in gasps and his chest hurt over where she’d touched him that night.

It was as if someone had taken a hammer to that spot hard enough to crack bone. This too he tried to ignore along with the pain of his healing fingers being worked raw. He would have to change the bandages once he returned to camp.

The memory of their union in the barren field played in his mind as he spun, and worked. He still bore the mark of her teeth buried in his flesh at the last moments. He thrust again, gutting an invisible enemy. He turned and skillfully stabbed another in the throat before extending the lance to its full length.

The routine brought him no peace, his hands leaving bloody marks along the haft despite the heavy linen wrappings. He came to rest upon his heels, his head bowed. He looked up to see Wink standing there.  
“... What do you want.” He hissed, the ache in his chest making it hard to breathe. “Have you not brought me enough misery.”  
The troll quietly and with few words told the prince the news he’d received not but an hour ago.  
“... She... Mine...” Nuada said, another blow to his heart. “My... child...”  
For a moment there was a hesitation as if some internal conflict was raging. The Troll had seen this more often since they had left the Enclave. The madness was slowly taking hold, and destroying the one hope the Sidhe had to stop their own destruction.  
“... It must not live...I will not let a half-breed taint my father’s blood.”  
Wink frowned, advancing toward the prince, this was not going to be a pleasant night.

**The next morning...**

Nuada rolled over onto his bruised ribs and nearly vomited. Wink had tossed him around like a rag doll during their sparing session the night before. He’d made the mistake of taking his rage out upon the Troll, it had devolved into a beating not soon forgotten. He noticed they were not in the enclave anymore, but several miles distant. Wink could move at a ground eating pace despite his size. He heard the three hobs chattering about how fast they had traveled. The beating had done little to sway him as they usually did.  
“... I have not changed my mind, Wink...” He hissed rolling back to lay looking up at the trees. “... The child will die...”  
Wink’s foot made contact with his side, sending a spasm of pain running through him. He tasted blood, slightly sweet against his tongue.  
“If it does not die... I’ll deny...”  
Wink’s foot came down on his shoulder, the crack of bone. The last he heard before the darkness took him was swearing about how stubborn he was.

The next time he awakened, the troll was wrapping his injuries in heavy linen strips. They had moved again, closer to the enclave where the girl was living. He had to wonder why Wink was insistent they return, clear upon his feelings her and now the child. He vaguely remembered snarling about how much dead weight he’d been carrying. He would have laughed, but it could easily be true. The Troll must have given him something in his sleep, his body heavy. Somewhere distant he swore he heard hounds...

Wink cursed, they had someone on their tail. It wasn’t until he saw the pair of red-eared hounds that he breathed a soft sigh. It was one of the local court out hunting. A rider on a tall midnight stallion rode up, the hood of a cloak hiding the countenance. It was late in the year for a proper hunt, but the creatures must have been pursuing something or someone.  
“You’re a long way from the tunnels Master troll...” The rider said reigning in the horse. “Best be moving on, even if you serve Balor, your presence is ill timed. You’ll find no shelter here, not tonight. Take what burdens you have and be scarce before sunset...”  
The Troll nodded and picked up the prince, now wrapped in a red and black cloak to ward off the early winter chill. With a slight nod of his head, he turned toward the enclave.

**A day’s journey outside Haladar’s lands...**

When Nuada awakened a third time, they were two days from the enclave. Wink said nothing when he offered the mug of warm chocolate that morning. There was a chill in the air, signaling snow. The Troll’s ground eating stride would deliver them to the edge of the Sidhe Lord’s lands in a day or two, by then he could think rationally. The hobs were fluttering about the came when the sharp scent of horses made both he and Wink turn toward the north.

Four riders, two of which had hoods thrown back to enjoy the early winter sunshine. One he recognized as the chamberlain’s herald, a most distasteful fellow. The Second wore their hair in a style that had faded centuries ago, he resembled Nuada in every other detail. This was not lost upon Wink, whoever this Elf was he was very old. The two trailings wore the armor of the raven guard, helms fastened pinion behind them.  
“Hail the camp...” The Herald said.  
“Hail,” Nuada raised a hand. “What brings one of Balor’s court so far from home?”  
“An invitation to a young lady.” The herald looked down his nose. “His Majesty wants to hear the Blue pearl sing, for the Yule celebration.”  
Nuada frowned, it was almost a year ago that he’d first met the girl. He had not known her for human, only a maiden who blushed at his attention. This must have been a request from his sister, as the court had its own entertainers and had no need for a Singer.  
“If you’re going in the same direction, you may travel with us.” The other said. “The guild will be extending its congratulations to her... Her child should arrive a fore Lamas.”  
Wink made a noise, the conception must have been hours before their departure.  
“The sire?” Nuada asked.  
If no one knew, there would be no worry.  
“She has not divulged the name of the male who was stag lord...” The herald said. “Though I have heard rumors...”  
“... What rumors?” Nuada snapped.  
The other frowned, clear displeased by the Herald’s goading.  
“I will not shame the girl, it is the Guild’s business as to who sired the child. Isn’t it, Prince...”  
Nuada frowned, his fingers flexed wanting to strike.  
“... Peace,” said the herald, “If we wish to make the enclave Fore Yule passes...”  
Wink clasped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed before the prince could make some retort.  
“We shall be grateful for your company...” the other said.  
Nuada winced, Wink’s grip grinding healing bone.

**A day later...**

Welcomed at the edge of Enclave lands, Pen was among those waiting for them. She stood cocooned in a great cloak to ward off the cold. She took one look at Nuada and turned her head to greet the other He prepared to deliver one swift blow, she’d miscarry, and he’d be done with her. Wink grabbed a hand full of sash, he wasn’t going to let his liege anywhere near the girl now.  
“Ced’mil prionnsa Nuada...” She said softly, then switched to the common tongue. “The healers were kind enough to tell me who you were when my moon times stopped...”  
Wink shook his head, keeping a tight grip on him. The three hobs made chattering noises as they climbed out of the bags and ran to tug on her cloak, happy to see her.  
“Stay away from me... Human.” Nuada hissed.  
She hung her head, she had desire he would be more cordial toward her. She knew he would not be, but she had hoped. She knelt to acknowledge the creatures. They climbed upon her as she rose, diving under the cloak and finding folds in her clothing to warm themselves.  
“... I thought the news of our child would delight you.” She said and turning to rejoin the two riders. “But it appears I was a dalliance... Nothing more.”  
Nuada stood there with his jaw hanging open. He pressed a hand over his heart, it was beating so hard his chest hurt.  
“... Wink...” He said, much too softly. “Do not let me harm her...”  
The other came and stood between him and Pen. Having his view of her blocked did nothing to ease the ache or the conflicted feelings rolling through his blood.  
“She is your bond mate, yet you deny it...”  
Nuada made a noise, his hands trembled.  
“The bond is nothing like what binds you to Nuala...it is stronger, deeper...and cuts to the heart.”  
Pen turned again to look at him moving, so he could see her, then began talking to the Herald.  
“It is likely she will accept the offer, to sing for the king is a privilege few would turn down.”  
Both watched her head shake. The herald said something and produced an object. Again, refusing the offer. She turned away, A third quarry She paused more words. Her agreement was terse and to the point.

She moved past them, heading into the woods. The herald made to follow, the other caught him. He did not wish the girl pursued.  
“I’m surprised she agreed, but as the head of her guild...”  
The other growled low, like many he was rapidly coming to hate the herald.  
“You have my agreement, I came to ensure her safety.”  
“What of him... His majesty would delight to see his son.”  
Nuada frowned, shaking his head. He couldn’t return, would not step into the throne room that was a pale reflection of the court’s former glory.  
“As you wish,” The Herald said. “The girl will leave in four days.”  
The other looked, turning to Wink.  
“Let your Liege go, Lord Wink, she is safely away...”  
That meant she was in the presence of the elders. He let Nuada go, the prince stumbled and fell to his knees. A heart beat and Nuada vomited his breakfast into the snow, nausea accompanying the pain of her disappearance.  
“Get him inside, his injuries will not stand the chill...”  
Wink made an agreement noise and picked the prince up again, cradling him.

The healers gently tended to Nuada, putting the prince into a deep sleep. Pen came, to stand beside the bed. She took his hand, holding it in her own. He did not stir when she bent down to place her lips near his ear.  
“... Our child.” She whispered softly, laying the hand upon her belly. “Know, and remember.”  
She held his hand there for a few moments, letting his senses absorb what she wished for him to know. She placed it back upon the blanket and gave a gentle kiss to the scar on his temple.  
“Sleep, croí airgid...” She whispered softly.  
She turned, allowing the healers to continue hovering around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> croí airgid: (Irish) Silver Heart   
> Prionnsa: (irish) Prince


	2. Bearing the mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nuada is torn, Wink gets a strange boon asked of him, Pen travels to Balor's court and preforms, also a meeting with Nuala

**Two days later...**

Nuada came into light consciousness feeling someone changing the bandages on his hands. He turned his head as the gentle ones holding his paused. He could barely make out the shape of another in the dimness of the lamp beside his bed.  
“... Go back to sleep.” The voice was soft. “You are safe here...”  
A lullaby, sung as soft as the voice had been. He recognized it, his nurse had sung it for him and Nuala as children. He let himself fall back into sleep with that soft melody.

**Four days later...**

Nuada lay looking at his hand, the sensation that he’d touched something fragile and yet protected lingered on his fingertips. The echo of her words, “our child” gave him what he had touched. Something between awe and revulsion made him stare at his fingers.  
“My child...” He whispered to himself. “My heir...”  
She’d told him that he’d die if he continued his war with the humans. Now he had a reason to end his war, one small reason to keep fighting. He ran his thumb over his fingertips, would she let him touch the child’s fête again. He hoped, with that part of his heart that had not fallen, that she would.

Informed upon waking that Pen had left two days ago, agreeing to depart for the court only if he was her guest. He wondered why, given the chance he would harm her. He could see her still, wrapped in the cloak; hope dying in her eyes when he’d told her to keep away from him.

The revelation struck him, that cloak had been his, the one he’d wrapped around her to shield her from the poachers. She had kept it as a comfort, despite how he’d reacted to seeing her.  
“... It is her only fault that she cares too much.”  
He turned to see the other, his near mirror, sitting beside him. He wondered when the elder male had done this.  
“She is human, they are hollow, apathetic creatures.” He hissed. “They are a plague and should be wiped off the face of the earth...”  
The Elder male let out a sigh, as if he’d heard this a thousand times before.  
“They have merely forgotten, and we have let them.” A soft noise. “... We are as much at fault for where we are as they. It was a lesson I learned long ago, your Sire as well.” He sighed. “I remember living in the Father tree’s shadow...”  
Nuada looked at him skeptically.  
“I am far older than I look, and my memory of our people is still sharp.” He rose. “... It would be wise to remember that it will not be just humans you will destroy...”  
The prince was slightly stunned but held his tongue. The elder male shook his head, turning to leave him to ponder what he had said.

**Somewhere between the enclave and New York...**

Their progress was slow, as Pen could not ride for long without vomiting. The smell of horses made her ill. The Herald was concerned, he had been charged with delivering the young Singer to court in a healthy state. The morning sickness was expected, but this came at all points in the day. He near told one of the guards to ride double with her to see to her well-being. She had glared him down when he suggested they turn back and arrange another time for her to sing.  
“I will sing for Balor...” She said. “This will pass...”  
He had dropped the suggestion after that, being reminded the girl was more than she appeared.

**A week later...at the enclave...**

Wink had not wandered far from Nuada, though letting the prince recover quietly. The pale prince had said little since learning of the girl’s departure.  
“They should be at the city’s edge, close to the court...” Wink said in Troll.  
He made a noise of agreement, there were ways to travel quickly and no doubt the herald knew all of them.  
“... You should hear her sing formally, Prionnsa Nuada.” A voice said. “It is a wonder she does not charm the sylphs from the air...”  
Both turned, the elder singer stood in the doorway. Nuada had heard her to agree with the elder. He was sure now it was her who had lulled him into sleep near two weeks ago.  
“I have heard her, she sang often enough for me.” Nuada said. “I have no need to hear her in a formal setting.”  
The elder singer entered the room, frowning. It was because of this one his charge had refused two influential suitors. He had hoped marrying her off to one of them would supply a steady income to the guild.  
“There have been two offers for her hand since your departure...” The elder singer said. “She has refused them both.”  
Nuada frowned, the proof of the girl’s fertility was a prize to any man. It did not surprise him that she had refused wither by choice or by some hope that he’d fulfill his vows. Either was likely with what he knew of her.  
“I would think she would want one to give the child a name...” The elder continued. “The girl is a foolish chit...”  
Wink made a derivative noise, he’d seen her going through her martial routines several times over the previous year. There had been no teacher when he observed her in the clearing, but it did not mean there wasn’t one.  
“You disagree master Wink...”  
Wink rose and excused himself, he wasn’t going to betray the young singer. Or the fact that she had been learning to separate fools from their heads.

A man Wink assumed was one of Balor’s messengers who met him as he was drawing water from the enclave well. The troll ignored the man for a few moments while he drank, he had learned that somethings could easily wait.  
“...I would ask a boon of you, master Wink...”  
The toll turned, giving a grunt.  
“Complete her training, she must know how to counter each of the prince’s moves...”  
Wink looked at the man, he could see the resemblance between this man and Pen. No doubt the man before him was the girl’s blood father and one of her teachers.  
“My daughter is quite the warrior, but she must be more. The elder singer does not know how strong she is...”  
Neither did the prince and that made all the difference, Wink tilted his head.  
“If you can get the prince to teach her, all the better.”  
Wink nearly choked on the water he was swallowing, to get the prince to do so would take a lot more than most had. Finding out the girl was human had soured the prince on attempting to aid them.  
“He will want to, once he sees the gift I’m sure Balor will bestow upon her...”  
Again the ogre tilted his head to indicate those in the house.  
“I will be most careful, good day Master Wink...”  
The Ogre wondered what had brought the man to talk to him of all beings.

**The royal court, abandoned factory, New York...**

Pen looked up at the chamberlain, listening to him insist she surrender the small bodice dagger she wore for her own protection. She surrendered her blades, it made no matter she had other weapons. She was escorted to rooms within the factory, frowning at the rust and decay the court was forced to dwell within.

She would be performing in a few hours. The little one was restless, small she could feel the barest movement. She thought of the child’s father as seamstresses came and began prodding her with pins and lengths of fabric. She submitted to them, her mind upon Nuada. She knew one day he’d understand what she had told him, for without the “sight” she knew well enough history would repeat until the lesson was learned.

The maids drew a bath in a tub pieced together with slabs of marble, most likely scraps from construction sites for luxury hotels and penthouses. The Sidhe had made a niche for themselves when they came with the Celts to the new world, but it was growing smaller as the humans expanded, and they were forgotten. She understood why the world would be poorer for their fading and why Nuada had waged his war for so long.

She thought upon this as she washed the smell of horse from her skin. She took in the woodsy-spicy scent of the soap, it reminded her of Nuada and the year she’d spent with him. She shook her head, pushing that thought aside it had no place in her head before she was to perform. A handmaiden awaited her with a towel as she stepped out. 

Her hair was braided with gems linked by gold and silver chain. The dress was velvet the color of a clear night sky. She looked at herself in the mirror, never again would she be so adorned. True enough the jewels themselves would buy small countries, the gold and silver were so pure and she had a feeling too much movement would snap them like twigs. No other patron would be able to adorn her or would she be adorned in such splendor again. She closed her eyes and turned to be escorted into the council chamber.

She stepped into the chamber, taking in the sight few humans would ever set eyes upon. Balor, the one-armed king, upon his throne. She could see he was weighed down heavily with guilt. At his side was a delicate woman bearing a strong resemblance to Nuada. The woman hid her hands in the long sleeves of her gown, hiding the bandages upon her hands.  
So that is his sister, She thought. Much like him...yet different.  
The chamberlain announced her and she bowed deeply.  
“Sing for us...” Balor’s voice was hesitant as it spoke the modern tongue. “Of happier times.”  
She closed her eyes and began to sing, of Lothlorien and of Rivendel. Songs from the first ages of man followed.  
She sang of places that were myth to humans but the Sidhe remembered. She finished her set with a lament of the sundering, written it was said by a bard who had chosen exile rather than side with either humans or Sidhe. There was plight applause when the last note faded.  
“... Enough.” Balor’s voice echoed in the chamber. “You will be called upon again tomorrow...”  
She bowed again, deeply as she was escorted out.

**A short time later...**

She was glad to shed the delicate finery when she returned to the guest-chamber. She had never been one to find such garments comfortable. She preferred the sturdy clothing most singers wore as everyday wear. She changed her clothing and prepared for bed with a cup of tea and the book she’d been reading for some days.

A knock upon the door made her look up, she expected no one. She rose carefully, not wanting to trip over the long gown she’d been given to bed down in.  
“Enter...” She said softly.  
The door opened, and upon soft feet, Nuala came in.  
“Your highness...” she said, bowing low.  
Nuala entered and calmly studied her. She had made no secret of her condition and to the senses of the Sidhe, it would be more than obvious.  
“You are with child.” A simple statement of fact.  
Pen nodded. “Yes, two months.”  
“My brother’s child.” another simple statement.  
Again Pen nodded.  
“... Has he returned to claim the child?”  
“Master Wink brought him to the enclave, he denies he sired our child.”  
Nuala noticed the pendant hanging from a delicate chain at her throat. From the  
“An Elven star.” She said softly, indicating the pendant. “My brother gifted you well. To the Humans, the small shard you wear could buy all of Eire and restore the Sidhe to Bethmora.” she offered a smile. “To the Sidhe, it is a mark of a bonded couple.”  
She touched the pendant, closing her eyes. She had known the pendant was valuable, but learning the stone was rare as she to the humans.  
“He knew well the gift that would please and provide for you.” She said, then with a hint of sadness. “I felt it, his love for you. I felt him struggle with his own heart after he knew what you were.” She revealed her bandaged hands, a reflection of Nuada’s. “I do not know if I am cursed or blessed knowing this.”  
“It is neither.” Pen said softly. “It was not until near the end I knew he had a sister, but I know the love he bears for you will destroy him in the end.”  
Nuala frowned. “We are as close as a single being, my brother and I. I do not bear him the love he professes for me, though...”  
“Then, you know his heart.” Pen said, touching her hand. “You know what he has become.”  
Nuala nodded softly, she knew all too well what her brother had become.  
“I would that he abandon the war he wages, but I know he will not.” Pen said. “It cuts to the heart of what he is, the last of his kind.”  
She watched Nuala hang her head, her words must have touched something.  
“I did not mean any offense...”  
“No, singer, you speak true. My brother is our last hope, but the madness...the shadow.”  
She could see the burden Nuala bore, to know her brother’s madness and yet be untouched by it. Nuala looked into her eyes before turning, it appeared the audience was over.  
“Care well for your child, singer,” Nuala said. “For it may be all that is left of a once noble male when my brother gains what he seeks.”  
Pen heard the sadness in her voice, the pain.  
“I will do as I am able.” She said.  
“It is all that is asked,” Nuala said. “I bid you, Good-night singer...”  
“Good Night, your highness...” She said as she escorted Nuala to the door.  
She watched the princess leave and turned back to her tea. It was now cold and her book held no interest.


	3. Chapter 3

_Three days after Yule..._

Pen was calmly escorted toward the last of the Goblin Forges. She knew since the creation of the Army, Goblin smiths were few and far between in the world of man. The sound of hammers upon metal greeted her as she stepped lightly into the dimmed light of the forge proper. The Master smith came out from behind his forge, rolling on a cart. He said something to the Guard who escorted her.

"...Extend your arm." The guard translated in rough modern. "He wishes to measure your reach."

She gently extended her arm. Measurement was taken, and then she was asked to lunge forward. A second measurement, and some grumbling from the master smith.

"We go now." The Guard said, turning her gently. "Leave the master to his work..."

She took one last look at the Master smith, confirming the tales she'd heard of the army's creation. It had come at a horrid price and an even greater one after.

_The Enclave..._

Nuada stood at the window watching the snowfall, waiting. Only Wink knew exactly what his prince was waiting for, the young singer He'd seen how worn the prince was out of the young Singer's presence, it was as if he'd stopped breathing until she was in his sight. He watched Nuada absently rub a spot on his chest as if it ached. He'd seen his prince do this when they were at the mountain enclave.

"...She should be on her way back by now...The celebration ended two days ago..." Nuada said, a mixture of annoyance and longing edging his voice. "My father is not one to keep..."

Wink caught him as he collapsed, then carried him back to bed. This was the third time since the Singer's departure that Nuada had simply collapsed. Wink knew little of Heart bonds, but this was a clear sign the bond Nuada had with the young singer was no ordinary bonding.

_The royal place, New York..._

Pen wiped her mouth, the tea the midwife had given her eased some of her morning sicknesses but could not fully prevent it. She was thankful she had been advised to take small meals. She listened to two servants gossip outside her door, Nuala had taken ill shortly after the ball. To her it meant something different, it meant something had happened to Nuada. She recalled well Nuala's words of them being as close as a single being. It was no stretch, in her mind at least, that they would share a stronger bond than most twins.

"...His Majesty wishes to see you..." Said a guard as he came in.

She composed herself and followed the guard out.

In the throne room, Balor waited with only his guard and one of the priests. The High King motioned for her to come forward. She came to the foot of the throne with slow steps. She bowed, her head low in reverence. She looked up to notice a velvet wrapped object being held by the priest.

"...His Majesty wishes to gift you." The priest said, his modern rougher than the kings. "A rare object for a rare woman."

The priest slowly approached her, holding out the object. She carefully took it, and with great care unwrapped it.

What was revealed as the velvet fell away was a masterwork, perhaps the last great work of the forges. The sheath was pale white wood, looking freshly polished but with a grain that spoke of age Inlaid in silver along its length, were the notes of the ancient scale. She held the sheath in awe before pulling it apart to reveal two blades nested together.

"There is no other weapon like it." The priest said. "Nor will there ever be again."

She studied the blades, watching the light play along the keenly honed edges.

"The hilts are fashioned from the same branch of Aiden as the haft of the Silver Lance. The blades are Mithril with hearts of iron. The inlay upon the hilts is also Mithril, both came from a shirt of Elvish mail given by one of his majesty's loyal subjects."

She tested their weight in her hands, letting them balance in her fingers. She knew the iron core of them could kill, even sleeping in its sheath of Mithril. She would train with them, and perhaps one day make the wind bleed.

"His majesty knows of your training, and wished to a gift well suited to your skill." The priest said. "The King's Ravens are the only others to carry Mithril Iron. Your blades will poison any Sidhe you so much as scratch with them..."

She carefully re-sheathed the blades and wrapped them again in the velvet, she would take time to inspect them when she returned to the enclave.

"I thank his majesty for this gift." She said bowing.

Balor inclined his head, then she was escorted back to her rooms.

_Two days later..._

Pen fought down nausea as she clung to the back of the horse. Leather and horses seemed to be one of the things that made her automatically ill. One of the guards rode double with her to keep her in the saddle. They only paused when the sky darkened to black, then only to relieve themselves and take in a small meal.

Pen had heard Nuala was still ill when she'd left, it meant Nuada was also ill. The court healers were doing all they could to ease the princess' pain. When it had come to her, however, they had been at a loss on how to ease her morning sickness. She had made do with the tea the enclave healers had given her. She was actually aware of how rare the child she carried was, the first in a millennium.

"...we will be at the enclave in a few hours..." Came the guard's whisper. "We will push on."

She could only nod, wanting to be home and away from the smell of horse and leather.

The enclave healers met them at the edge of the enclave and took Pen from the guard. She vaguely heard the guard giving a message to the head healer. Her head was swimming.

"...Take her to the healing house, she should have never gone on this little excursion."

Jaern, She thought. He must have forgotten it was my choice to go.

Strong arms cradled her, holding her like a child.

"Sleep little pearl, the sickness will pass..."

She leaned her head against the man's chest and drifted into an exhausted sleep.

Jaeren frowned when his Guild head finished tucking Pen into her bed. He had plans for the girl, ones he did not wish the guild head to ruin. He had to play the loyal guardian for a little while longer.

"Lord Lochain, I would speak freely," Jaeren said as the guild head came from Pen's room.

"Do so." The Guild head said.

"...She turned down two suiters, and has refused to see any of the others."

"I am aware of that Jaeren, She has the right to choose...and it appears she has chosen Prince Nuada."

"He won't accept the bond, it took the ogre to get him back here..."

"What Master Wink does isn't our concern." He said. "What the prince will do is..."

"He will kill the child, and her..."

The Guild head sighed. "He won't, not with killing his own heart."

"He is infatuated with his twin, the whole court knows..."

"What...that he would bed her regardless of her protest."

"That they have been...intimate."

The guild head frowned, the rumor had persisted when Nuala had long ago broken off the intimate attachment to her brother.

"Rumor...no more." Lochain said softly. "I would be careful where you tread, Goblin. Despite the fact, you married my daughter...I will end you if the girl and child come to harm."

"I would do nothing to harm shared blood..."

"See that you don't." Lochain said. "Now be gone, let the girl get her rest.."

Jaeren turned away hissing under his breath.

_Two days later..._

Pen recovered from her journey to the Bethmorian court. She wanted to see Nuada, she had not seen him among those come to welcome her at the communal meal the day before. She was surprised when the boggles came and began tugging on her clothing, chittering about the prince being very ill. She donned her great cloak and followed them out into the freshly fallen snow.

She came into the quiet cottage and was greeted by Wink. The Ogre was glad she had come. He pointed into the room where Nuada Lay in tangled sheets. The prince hadn't fared well in her absence.

"How long has he been like this?"

Wink frowned, holding up his fingers. Four days.

"...It does not look good. Bring me a basin, cold water...and cloths. You'll find what I need in the cupboard at the end of the hall..."

Wink went and returned with the basin filled with cold water from the pump in the kitchen, a stack of cloths under his arm. The ogre looked slightly lost as to what to do with the items.

"set them down on the nightstand." She said. "I will tend to him..."

Wink looked at her and then at his prince. Nuada had stopped thrashing when she'd stepped into the room and now lay still under the gentle strokes of her fingers upon his temples.

"...He knows I'm here." She said softly. "He will sleep now..."

She dipped a cloth in the cold water, then began washing the light sheen of sweat from Nuada's face. She'd wash the rest of his skin when the fever she felt under her fingers broke.

"The fever will break as well." She turned to look at Wink. "If this happens again, come find me...He is at war with himself and thus the bond to me."

Wink nodded, if possible he'd bring her to the prince. Using signs and market common he asked of her visit to court.

"...The king fades, he looked as old as the grandfather tree." She said softly. "but they hold splendor still. I received many gifts, including a gift I never expected."

Wink sighed, telling her of how the prince had faired since her departure.

"I should have insisted he come with me...but he's as stubborn as the mountains."

Wink had to agree on that about his prince.

"...He will sleep for some hours." She said. "The fever will break by dawn."

Wink asked if she needed anything.

"A tray, with tea. The cook will know if you say it is for me."

The ogre nodded and went to got get the young singer a bite to eat.

With the ogre gone, Pen began to touch Nuada gently. He let out soft sighs when she touched him, sinking deeper into a restful sleep. She laid her forehead to his, her eyes squeezed tight. She could do little without endangering their child. She knew how special the child she carried was, a seed of hope and a reminder that men and Sidhe had once lived in harmony.

"...You must come to peace with yourself, no matter how brief." She whispered. "Your people will need you...Be at peace..."

She didn't know how long she sat there before the ogre returned with a tray of food and a pot of tea. She turned and offered him a smile.

"Thank you, master wink." She said, rising to take the tray. "I will eat in the other room..."

Wink nodded, taking up her seat to look after his prince while she ate.

_Elsewhere in the enclave..._

Lochain moved smoothly through a martial form, his mind focused upon the young singer. He had watched her grow from an awkward girl to a talented young woman, in the span of a few years. He sighed, remembering the little girl who had been delivered to his doorstep by a distant kinsman. He had seen in her a memory, a promise he'd made so long ago. How he longed to tell Pen of the rich and noble bloodline she carried, now merged with that of Bethmora and the high throne. He couldn't, not if he wished to keep peace among the Guild, it had been his price for her to learn of the guild's old ways.

Now he was plagued by the feeling the man he'd assigned to care for her had not taken her best interests to heart. He had been furious at hearing of the two suitors who had tried to bid upon her like some prized animal at the market. It had been he who had sent the refusals in her name, she had been chosen for Nuada by both the king and the high council. He would have to keep an eye upon Jaeren, encourage Pen to think on her own for the sake of his own plan to make her his heir. He renewed his vow to see her safe.

_In Nuada's cottage, some time near sunrise..._

Wink listened as Pen went through the ancient scales, each note ringing clear after the last. What came next surprised him, she launched into the lament for someone called "gandelf." He knew now why Nobles paid well to hear her sing, she was indeed rare as a blue pearl. The prince stirred, waking as she went into a version of Tam Lin he'd never heard before.

"I forbid you maidens all, who ware gold in your hair/to go by cartarhaugh for young Tam Lin is there..." Her voice rang back. "For they must leave him a pledge, their mantles of green or else their maidenhead.."

Wink held close to assure the Prince wouldn't make a move toward the girl, though given his previous state that seemed unlikely.

"...How long has she been here,?" Nuada's voice was harsh, dry. "When did she come..."

Wink told him, frowning as Pen's voice changed to another song. This one a lullaby to send a child to sleep.

"...Send her away." He whispered.

Wink knew better if the girl left now the prince would soon find himself in his previous state. She came through the doorway, her hair damp and around her shoulders. She must have bathed while she had been singing.

"You are awake." She said softly, as she approached. "and good morning Master Wink..."

The ogre nodded rising to leave the two of them alone, mumbling in market common about breakfast.

"He's loyal to you." Was all she said when he turned his head away. "Would that I had someone as loyal." She ran a hand through her damp hair. "I met with your sister when I preformed...her hands were wrapped too."

She watched Nuada flex his hand gingerly, the bones were still healing from his encounter with the oak shortly after he'd departed. She gently took his hand, prepared to have him jerk it out of her grasp. He starred at her for a moment before he saw what she was doing.

"I do not expect you to talk to me." She said. "You made your feelings clear before I departed." She began unwrapping his hand, frowning as she saw how raw the skin was. "...I should have looked after this when I came last night..."

He didn't protest when she set his hand down to fetch more bandages. She returned and continued her task. He winced at the sting of antiseptic.

"...I want nothing to do with you, human." He said, watching her gently wrap his hand again, before moving around to tend the other. "What you carry is an abomination."

She pretended to ignore his rant, though the words struck hard. To her, the child was a gift, even more than the pendant she wore. He noticed it when she leaned forward, the point reflecting the early morning sunlight that filtered into the window.

"...Take it off." He hissed. "You are unworthy of it..."

she tucked it back into her tunic, ignoring him. She rose and quietly walked out of the room, out of his sight.

Nuada bit back a surge of pain as the singer disappeared from his sight. A second wave doubled him over, into a ball. He dug his hand into the sheets, wanting to vomit. He bit off the groan he made as a third wave came and dimmed his vision. He felt his heart slam against his ribs, adding to the pain. Soon a fourth wave came and sweet darkness rolled over him.

He awoke some hours later with a blanket tucked around him and a soft lullaby in his ears. He shivered when he felt warm fingers caress the hair back from his ear. He painfully turned in time to see her withdrawing her hand. There was that same expression of sorrow upon her face as he had rejected her near a week ago.

"...Go back to sleep." She whispered softly. "Your fever is back up..."

"Why...have you...staid?"

She was not startled by his question but put her hands in her lap. He knew in a short time those hands would be across her belly, cradling the unborn life within.

"I would be a poor host if I did not see to the health of my guest." She kept her voice soft. "I would not have you ignorant of why you are here." She took his hand, placing it against her lower belly. "it is still too early for me to feel the child move..."

His expression went slightly slack, he could feel that small life, even if she yet could not. Her hand held his there, letting him absorb the wonder of it.

"...a mear spark." He whispered.

She nodded, releasing his hand but he kept it there. With one hard push or a surge of energy he could have extinguished that spark, it was an act of trust to let him touch her.

"The child will be the first of its kind born in four millennial..."

That struck home, a reminder of a race that had all but vanished in the first war and then in the purges of the courts afterward. Those that had survived died as slaves, unmourned and forgotten. Here now was another, a chance and hope. He pulled his hand away, guilt filling his expression.

"...I will ask nothing of you, save you remain until the child is born." She said. "Then you may do as you choose..."

He frowned, some part of him wanted her to demand the rights from him. He watched her rise, then turn from the room. This time there was no pain in her vanishing.


	4. Ties that bind, the oldest dance

_Two weeks later..._

Nuada let the lance sing as he moved through the form. He tried to focus as he used the lance in its shortened form, but he could not shake the thoughts of the Singer and the unborn child she carried. The ache began sharply in his chest, a constant reminder of the bond he wished had never been. He ignored it, pushing himself further as he tried to bring his conflicting emotions into some sort of resolution. So far all he was sure of was a distinct sense of soul-deep pain.

He gutted an invisible enemy and whipped the shortened lance to stab another in the throat. He dodged a swung fist and drove the lance home into a heat. The ache became sharper as if a trickle of acid had been released beneath muscle and skin. Again he ignored the ache of the bond in favor of the ache of muscle. She was close by somewhere, the ache was proof of it. He spun, going to his knee to begin another part of the form.

Half-hidden behind an oak, Pen indeed watched. To say she felt every nuance of his anger and conflict would have been an understatement. She felt it acutely, it was a heavy weight upon her heart and spirit. She bore it in a way worthy of any Noble lady. Sometimes The burden was so much that it made her weep, but she would not let others see her tears. She knew of the ache in his chest, for she had begun to feel it too.

She had followed him, wanting to be near him in some way to ease her own ache. She had seen him dis-guard his shirt some time ago despite the cold. She knew he felt little of it with his own magick tight around him. With a heavy sigh, she pulled her cloak tighter to ward off the deepening chill. She watched him as he knelt and began again, the sweat turning to frost upon hid moon pale skin. She knew he sensed her in some way, she could feel a minor trickle of annoyance as he continued through the complex form.

Nuada paused, a rustle of movement at the edge of the clearing caught his attention. It was her, he was sure of it now. She should have not been out, it was much too cold. He felt a twinge of guilt at her being there, his pain and anguish had drawn her. He shook his head and went back to his form, trying to ignore the ache as it turned to squeeze his heart.

Pen knew she should return to her cottage, but she was worried about him. She watched him pause, move and go to his knee again, head bowed. He was trembling as she moved toward him, picking up his discarded cloak and laying it over his shoulders. He did not move as the wool settled over his bare skin.

He felt the cloak descend upon him, the chill now cutting through his shields now that he had focused upon her. The trickle of acid had turned to a flood as he felt her close to him. He took hitching breaths, the air puffing in soft clouds. He looked up at her, she was standing a few steps from him. He used the lance to leaver himself up. He stumbled the few steps to her. He pulled back a step when she reached to brush the frost from his cheek.

"...You should not be out, Human." He said, the pain tight upon his face. "It is not good for you, or the child..."

"It is not good for you either." She said softly. "You're in pain..."

He turned his head away. "What would you know, human."

She shook her head, "I know..." She said. "And your bleeding..."

He reached a hand up to smear away the caramel stream from his left nostril, then looked at his hand. A cloth appeared and her hand held his as it vanished beneath the cloth's soft strokes. He felt dizzy, unsteady on his feet.

"Go back human, leave me." He said. "I can tend to...to..."

His knees gave way and darkness consumed his world.

He slowly came to with his head in her lap, her fingers brushing ice-crusted hair back from his ear. His limbs felt stiff and he could feel the chill damp where the snow had melted beneath him.

"Your friend wink is coming, I sent rumor to fetch him..." Her voice was soft, slightly distant.

He wondered how long he'd lain there, her looking after him until one of the boggles had come looking for her. Her touch was gentle, as it had been throughout the previous year. He did not want to think of that year, a sweet taste of peace he could never have again. His only thought was of relief, the ache seemed a distant memory even if only for this moment.

The still silence of the trees passed for some time before he heard the sound of the ogre's steps along with those of two others. He was lifted from her lap as the ache returned, he made a noise of pain. Her hands adjusted the blanket Wink had wrapped him in to ward off the bitter cold, and soft words spoken in Sindarin made the world slide away again.

Lochain caught Pen as she fell, cradling her tightly against the warmth of his chest. He could already hear Jaren complaining about the girl's foolishness, and her devotion to Nuada. He had known from the very beginning that the heart bond between his heir and the prince would be a fragile one. He also had known what toll it had taken upon her, even more so now that she was in the early stages of pregnancy. He looked at the ogre and then at the girl in his arms.

"...When the prince wakes...bring him to see her." Lochain said, moving ahead of Wink. "Even if he protests..."

As usual, Wink nodded. Some times he wondered if Nuala had gotten all the understanding and Nuada all the stubbornness. He shook his head as he headed back toward the enclave in Lochain's footsteps.

Nuada didn't protest when Wink near carried him to the small cottage the young singer occupied. He saw her sitting by the hearth wrapped in a large blanket, her fingers wrapped around a stoneware mug as she watched the flames dance. He rubbed a spot over his heart, the ache was still there despite the many hours since he'd been lulled to sleep. It was not until he came fully into the room that he saw the ancient elf sitting across from her.

"Prince..." Lochain said.

"Guild Master..." Nuada said.

Lochain rose, "I will leave you two alone..."

He watched her turn her head slightly. A memory came, of her sitting by the hearth singing as she embroidered upon a scrap of linen. He watched her face tighten, and her fingers grip a bit harder on the mug in her hand.

"...It is good you are well, prince..."

He took the seat Lochain had vacated, reaching to take the mug before it cracked in her hand. Her skin was still slightly chilled beneath his fingers.

"...You should not have stayed with me." He said softly. "You could have endangered the child..."

"What would it be to you if I lost the child..." She said, pulling her hand away. "You could be well rid of a burden you have no want of."

The words were like a slap, a sharp reminder of what he had rejected. He caught her hands, holding them tightly around the mug. His grip made her meet his eyes, amber shaded dark by the pain he would never admit to.

"Do you know what you have done to me human." He hissed. "Because of you, I cannot take a breath without being reminded of a bond I have no want of..."

She looked hard into his eyes. "...I gave you what your heart truly desired, what the man beneath wished..."

The ache sharpened, he felt her tremble and grip the mug a bit tighter. It hit him why she was pulling away, she was bearing the brunt of their bond and it was hurting her.

"I have forgotten I am not alone in feeling this ache." He said, taking the mug from her hands and taken them into his own. "This burden should not be yours to bear alone."

"No, prince you are not..." She said, rising, pulling her hands from his. "And yet I must..."

He watched her turn to go, the blanket trailing behind her like a train upon a queen's gown. The hard squeeze of his heart a reminder of what a fool he had allowed himself to become.

_Four days later..._

Nuada was back to his martial routines, this time he made sure she would not follow him. He had told either Wink or the boggles where he was going, dangerous to be sure but he could not risk the loss of a possible heir. An image came of a child that mirrored him but with her dark hair and evergreen eyes. The lance slid from his hand, the ache near stopped his heart. He fell to his knees and vomited into the snow. He tasted blood on his tongue, and what he had spewed into the snow was tinged dark with it. With a trembling hand he wiped a warm trickle from his left nostril, the smear was as dark as what stained the snow.

"What is happening to me..." he whispered.

You are dying, for her... a dark voice seemed to echo in his head. The bond is already killing you...

He vomited again as a pair of delicate hands caught him before he pitched headfirst into the mess beneath him.

"...Master Wink, I've found him..."

Her voice, the little singer's voice was so close. He tried to pull away, but he heard the ogre make concerned noises as he was lifted to his feet. He tried to focus his eyes, finding he couldn't and everything was colored by an odd haze before darkness descended.

_Hours later..._

Nuada felt something cool against his face, he opened his eyes only to find the light hurt them. The soft sound of the light dimming, and soft sounds of concern. He closed his eyes, even the dimmed light made them burn.

"...Be at peace." Her voice, and again the coolness. "Sleep, rest."

He did not want to fall back into sleep, it was too much like death. Her hand touched his skin, and fingertips glided over the mark upon his face. The touch was light, the movement slow. He realized what she was doing as he sank down into dreamless darkness. She was using the Reverie, the one-state no Sidhe would fight when their bodies were badly injured or gravely ill.

"Wicked...Human..." He murmured as the warm darkness enfolded him.

A soft kiss to the mark on his temple was the last he knew for a long time.

Nuada came awake again with the sound of voices, but the voice he wished to hear was not among them.

"...The poisoning was subtle, it would not have been noticed if he had not vomited a good portion of the lining of his gut into the snow..." The voice was male, possibly the healer. "We will have the enclave searched, the poisoner could not have gone far..."

"It was fortunate we found him when we did, otherwise it would have been days before we would have found his corpse." a second male, older. "No doubt the poisoner is a corpse themselves, that poison is strong even in small doses..."

He turned his head, to find Pen's next to his. She was asleep, her head on her arms at the edge of the bed. He wondered why she had remained there.

"...So you're awake, we thought you had left us." Lochain said, from the other side. "She has not left your side since you were found." The pouring of water into a cup. "She fell asleep a short time ago, still wanting to be at your side. It has not been easy for her, to bear the burden placed upon her. Here, drink..."

He accepted Lochain's aid in taking the water, it was almost like ice as it numbed the aching pain in his gut. The cup was taken and he was eased back. He turned his head to look at the soft, dark waves that hid Pen's face from his view. For a moment, he could almost believe that his war could be abandoned and he could take up the life of a Sidhe noble and raise strong children, living in peace in this remote place. He knew after the child was born he would walk away, never looking back upon the heir that would take his place on the High Throne.

"...She will bear it until the stars fall." He said, feeling a quiet sadness seep into his heart. "My world shifts, Guild master, it would be unwise for her to remain with me..."

Lochain looked to someone in the shadows, words in Drowic left his lips. A moment later, a piece of shadow detached itself and gently eased the young singer from his bedside. Nuada let his fingers catch a few strands of her silken hair as she was pulled away and the ache squeezed his heart once more.

_Weeks later..._

Nuada recovered slowly, retreating into the bare trees when the stench of humans became strong in his nose. He wandered in those woods, Wink or one of the boggles not far behind him. He silently accepted their company among the sleeping nature spirits. It was quite by accident he came upon Pen as she kept up her training as much as she was able. He watched her, the movements of a body long used to the fluid grace of a deadly dance. She seemed to have sensed him, the dance faltered and stopped. Green eyes caught his golden ones, he had not truly spoken to her since that night by the fire.

"So, you have found me..." She said softly, though he could hear her from where he stood.

He came a few paces closer as she walked calmly over to where a compact, near smokeless fire, burned. She sank slowly to the flat rock beside it. She held up a waterskin, offering him the hospitality of her fire. Rumor was with him this day and ran ahead to find warmth near the flame.

"Trust me or not," She said, taking a long pull of water. "...but do not stand there and freeze."

He let his legs carry him toward the promise of warmth. He heard the skin sailing at him, he near dropped it when it hit him in the chest. He heard her give a short laugh when it near slipped from his fingers.

"...So this is where you vanished to in the year you shared my bed." He drank, the water cool and sweet despite having been near the fire. "was this too part of your deception?"

Her face turned dark as she accepted the skin back, obviously, her training was an open secret.

"No, my blood father is a teacher of such forms. I learned the basic movements before I was brought to the Guild...others were found to teach me after I passed the threshold of the hall." she set the skin down beside her. "I was Four when I was given to the guild..."

He could tell she was weary, perhaps from bearing a burden that should not have been hers. He moved to sit a short span from her, the stone-cold even through the layers of wool and silk that kept the chill at bay. He watched her rub her hands in the fire's warmth, now seeing the fingerless gloves that adorned her hands. He was not sure how to broach the subject of her performance before the court of Bethmora.

"...You went to sing for my father's court." He said. "When you returned I should have asked how my sister fared...I would have liked to see her again."

She turned to him, taking up his hand sighing as she traced the near-invisible scars. He could feel the tips of her bare fingers moving over his chilled palm, it was a strange sensation that near mirrored the touch of Reverie. He knew his reaction didn't go unnoticed.

"...She bore your wounds in faint echo." She said. "I spoke only once with her, that night after my first performance. She has felt your heart in its conflict, and told me to care for my child well..."

He gently pulled his hand away, being reminded that to love either this woman or his sister as he had...and still did was tearing his heart to pieces for he saw each love as a betrayal of the other.

"Fate bound you too closely, the bond of twins distorted, the echo too strong between you." She returned to warming her hands again. "Indeed you should have been one being..."

"But we are not." He said, reminded that what he felt for Nuala was a twisted reflection of what Pen had offered him. "...why do you continue your training, surely you are escorted about."

She licked her lips, she could taste some remnant of his breakfast upon them. For her, being bonded was a new sensation, for him it had been life long. She turned to take a drink from the skin again, collecting herself.

"...I cannot always rely upon the Light siders who work for the Guild, many are hirelings. Their loyalty goes only as far as the gold the guild pays." She said. "and I would like to be able to defend my child if the need arises." she rose slowly, stretching, muscles already aching. "Your lance will not be there to defend us..."

He watched her move from the fire and into the dance again.

For many days afterward, Nuada would come to watch her and to share her fire for brief moments. Then one morning, he was waiting for her, lance in hand. He did not wait for her to begin her forms, he attacked. The clash of wood upon wood echoed as the haft of the lance met the sheathed blades.

"Are you mad..." She hissed, dodging the blade as it swung close to her body.

"Perhaps I am..." He said, bringing the lance around for another swing, this time at her head. "Perhaps I wish you to be able to defend against even me..."

"I have no desire to fight you..." She said, barely avoiding being smacked with the blunt end of the lance. "...But if you so desire, I will dance..."

The sound of Silver blades sliding out and the sharp smell of iron told him she would only have to scratch him and He'd be seeing the green fields of the summer lands. He cast a wary glance when Wink appeared at the edge of the clearing. The Ogre gave only a brief nod, acknowledging the prince's gaze.

"...So, will you rely upon iron for your lack of skill..." He said, turning his attention back to her.

She ignored the taunt and went for him as she had practiced, the sound of encased iron upon wood was her reward.

"The only iron I need are my words and will..." She took aim low and found the lance blade there to block the blow. "Shall I say the same for Magick with you..."

He let out a growl, She indeed had the bard's talent for turning a barb. He paused the blade under her chin in one swift motion.

"...I do not need magick to deal with such a hollow-hearted, vain creature..." He said, withdrawing the lance and tossing it to where Wink had settled himself at the edge of the clearing. "Shall we test your skills, I wish to see if your fists are as swift as your blades..."

the blades slid into their sheath with a click, and she moved to set them aside, only to be grabbed swiftly from behind, the sheath trapped against her body. She could feel his breath on her neck, the hard line of his body against her back. A sudden flash of arousal traveled between the bond, quickly quenched when she let out a soft sound.

"...What should I do with you human, perhaps end your torment now..." He said, one hand moved to caress her throat. "or end the mistake I have made..."

She froze as his other hand pressed to her lower belly, not yet showing the swell of new life. She felt him tremble, struggling between actually doing these acts and the intimate way he held her.

"...Silverlance..." She breathed out. "Don't..."

His lips brushed down the side of her neck, His breath flowing out in a pained sound. The sense of arousal became stronger, struggling to surface from the depths of his darkened Soul.

"...Beg me not to..." He whispered, then his voice lowered to a growl. "beg me..."

She knew if she didn't move he would take her, hard and savage as his whisper promised. She attempted to pull apart the sheath, only to have her wrists grabbed. He pressed her harder against his body, she could feel the solid hardness of him pressed against her lower back. Even without their bond, she knew what he desired. The blades were pulled from her grasp and tossed in the same direction as the lance, his grip upon her wrists returned as she was spun to face him.

"No Human, you will not escape..." He said, his eyes bright with lust. "Not this time, not ever again..."

The next she knew, she was pressed between him and the trunk of a tree. One of his hands encircled her wrists, the other fumbling between them to adjust their clothing. The sudden intrusion of his fingers was a poor substitute for what she had felt beneath layers of silk and wool. He made a pained sound as he withdrew the digits from her.

"Not here..." He murmured, laying his forehead against hers. "Not in the open...A bed...roof, walls..."

She felt his weight shift, easing up. She tried again to break his hold, only to be pressed hard against the trunk.

"My cottage...I will have you beneath me..." He said, looking down into her eyes.

The scent of autumn and spice rose up, making her reach up to touch the mark. She watched his eyes darken, and his breath hitch at her touch. One of his hands took her wrist and guided for another intimate touch.

"...See what you have done to me, human." It came out on a choked sound. "...I cannot wait..."

She had only a moment to touch velvet over steel before the ground came to meet her back and her clothing lay discarded beneath her. She heard him murmur something in Sindarin, a plea for forgiveness as He thrust deeply into her.

It was a long time later that his body lifted from hers, but he did not withdraw. Sweat had turned to frost, turning his skin to moon glow. He looked down at her, her hands moving up and down his ribs sent another shudder through him. She made a soft sound as the pleasure of it sailed through their bond. He looked toward the edge of the clearing, there was no sign of Wink. He wondered if the Ogre had wandered off before or after he had placed her on the ground.

"...He left the moment you pinned me to the tree." She said.

Too well could his oldest friend read his moods, perhaps he had departed to let them have some illusion of privacy. He leaned forward to kiss her, moaning when he felt her hands reach his hips and pull him deeper. Both gasped, the sensation doubled by the bond.

"...Wicked Human..." He moaned.

"...Evil Elf..." She moaned back.

Their bodies began moving again, striving to make the moment last.

When their bodies were stated and only echos traveled their bond did Nuada rise from her. He looked down at her sleeping form. He draped his cloak over her, letting her doze in the clinging warmth and scent of him. His sharp nose wrinkled at the smell of sex and release that hung in the air. He had to admit the mingled scent of their coupling was not unpleasant, like the last vestiges of summer turning into Autumn. He looked to where their weapons had landed, Wink must have set them together. He looked back to her as he rose, near-naked to where they lay.

"...So this was my father's gift to you." He said, carefully picking up the nested blades. "...A blade made to kill..." He traced the inlaid notes. "...You will one day make the wind sing around them, little singer, I will ensure it."

He turned to collect his clothing and leave the clearing, he did not want to face her when she woke.


	5. The One I allow, things long hidden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four days pass, Pen comes home to a very changed Nuada...evidence of Wink acting as his conscious marking him, healing and long-hidden desires come to the surface...What secret could the pale prince hold to have kept hidden so long...

_Four days later..._

Pen moved through the form, fluid and graceful as her changing body would allow. Her mind wasn't on her movements though, it was with Nuada. She had not seen him since they had coupled in the center of the clearing. She'd woken up with his cloak wrapped around her and her prince nowhere in sight. Oh, she could feel him wandering the wood, his emotions churning like a stormy sea. Each wave threatened to drown her in its intensity. Then there was nothing, he was shielding her out. Wither it was to spare her or keep his emotions to himself she was great-full he did, his hatred and loathing were becoming shards of glass scoring lines into her heart.

She returned to her cottage to find a meal waiting, along with the pale prince. She paused a few steps from the table, his back was to her and his gaze upon the fire. When he turned, his dark lips were drawn into a thin line as he motioned for her to eat.

"...Eat," he said solemnly. "I was told a meal like this is good for an expectant mother..."

She slowly sat down, her eyes wearily going over the covered dishes upon the table. She lifted one, it smelled richly of meat and root vegetables. Another revealed beats simmered in butter, and yet another contained Brussels sprouts. She dished up the stew first, smiling as the rich aroma filled her nose.

"...Will you join me?" She asked.

"No, this is a meal for you alone..." He said. "I simply came to see you ate..."

This was not the Nuada she had encountered for the last few weeks, she wondered what had changed him. He touched her face, gentle as thistledown.

"...For a short time, please let me believe that you and our child are all that matter in the world." He said, his voice strained. "...Let me believe that I won't walk away when all is said and done."

The bond told her what had happened, and its cause. The Ogre had beaten him, no doubt if she removed the simple tunic she would find large bruises blooming dark against his pale skin. His hand moved to cup the side of her face, she turned and kissed his palm.

"...You should not let Wink act as your conscious." She said offering him a morsel of her stew. "It might kill you..."

He took it and held the fork in his mouth for a moment before releasing it. She watched him painfully chew and swallow. She reached up and parted the collar, a bruise darkened his throat from just under his chin to his collar bone.

"...it nearly has..." She whispered, pulling her fingers away.

He put his forehead to hers, his eyes closed.

"...Eat, éan beag amhrán..." He whispered, pained, rough. "and worry not of the falcon who guards your nest..."

He moved from her and turned back to the fire, his movement stiff.

A bath awaited after her meal, the water warm and scented with the smell of summer woods after a hard rain. He made pained sounds when she began undressing him, her fingers finding each of the bruises upon his pale flesh. His hands caught hers when she reached to open his trousers, he shook his head.

"...I cannot give you..."

She saw the bruises on his stomach, sinking beneath the waist. His pained breathing told her that passion was the last thing on his mind.

"I need that not from you now..." She said, pulling her hand out of his grip and returning to her task. "I would rather have your skin be of moon glow than midnight..."

He gave her a wary glance and winced as her finger brushed over the pattern discoloring his abs.

"I do not glow like the moon..." He said.

She paused, smiling at him.

"You do, especially when frost glistens on your skin..."

He gave the smallest of smiles, before pulling her into his chest.

They stood like that for an age, both with eyes closed. He backed away first as her hands drifted down his hips, pushing the fabric against abraded skin. Long conditioned to her touch, he winced then his groin tightened as she brushed her fingers downward. She pulled her hands away, turning to undress.

"...Why do you care for me." He asked though it wasn't the first time he'd asked himself this. "all I have done is cause you..."

She let her tunic fall open, a pause. How could she tell him it was more than the Guild head's wishes that made her his. She remembered at twelve she had been in the Troll market and had been captivated from first sight, though the encounter had been a painful one.

"...Once there was a young girl in the market, she ran into a prince...literally...unlike others, she had no fear of him or the creature that walked a spear length behind him." She smiled. "She came to the attention of his Sire that day, by the words of a princess..."

He moved to push the tunic off her shoulders, brushing the tips of her breasts. Her words sparked a vague memory.

"...it was not long after, the king chose the girl to stand at the prince's side."

His thumb brushed over the soft flesh, relishing the shudder he received.

"The market, the little waif Jareth took such an interest in..." He breathed backing her up toward the tub. "The day I came for supplies...the last day I spent with my sister."

She only nodded, "I bore the bruise with half the shape of your seal for near a month. The guild head still inquires if it has not been branded upon my soul."

He raised his fingers to brush over her lips, "and I the bruise from your impact only days."

She pulled away enough to let her skirts and undergarments fall to the floor.

"...when we encountered you upon the road, your life ebbing away from a wound that should have killed you hours before...I did not know I had met the very same prince, it was only after..."

He put a finger to her lips, shaking his head. This was becoming painful in more ways than one.

"...Let me believe then that was the first time we met." He said. "Please, let me believe that I can live in peace far from my own demons."

She drew him into the water, letting it soothe away the hurts both bore that day.

A gown of soft fabric was slid over her still damp body after the bath cooled and the air chilled. He had foregone the light cotton pants and stretched out upon her bed, bruises were blotched from his feet to just beneath his chin. She shook her head and went into one of the cupboards and returned with a pot of liniment. He made a pained sound when the smell of the liniment reached his nose, it was the same foul stuff he'd encountered in numerous camps. He wondered if the healers collected horse piss just to make it smell foul. She said little as she set the pot on the nightstand, she was going to make sure he wasn't seriously injured.

"I'll start on your back..." She said. "and no it does not contain Horse piss, its a mix of camphor and Aranica along with some other pain releasing herbs."

He rolled over with a groan, his back was no better. He grunted when she began at his ankles, warmth followed in the wake of her touch. He gave a sharp cry when her deft fingers found a spot that sank in under her gentle touch.

"You've got at least one cracked rib, perhaps more." She said, moving up his back. "You can't keep letting Wink do this..."

He could not tell her it was the only way, the only thing that kept the demon of madness from consuming him. He was also not going to tell her these bruises were two days healed. Another spot came up under her fingers, this one scraped against the others. His sharp intake of breath made her pause, her hands lifting from his skin.

"...Do you wish me to stop and wrap you..."

"No..." He said, though a little sharp. "See to the bruises...I will endure it."

She let her fingers continue to move over his skin, wincing with him when she found a soft spot.

"You've got four ribs either cracked or broken..." She said, sitting back on her heels. "You should have seen a healer days ago..."

He shook his head, "I needed you...to see..."

She deftly felt along his sides again, he should have been unable to even move.

"Turn over, I need to see how badly..."

With a pained gasp, he turned. Exposing the bruises she'd glimpsed as she undressed him.

She began the process again, starting at his feet, working deftly up. She frowned as she came to the discoloration on his abs, it extended into his groin. His breath turned pained as her touch made his body tighten. His body was still conditioned to her soft caresses, her very touch upon his skin. She stopped, her fingers resting on the inside of his thighs.

"Do you want me to stop..." She asked her eyes on his stiffened member.

He looked at her, a mix of pain and lust darkening his amber gaze. He would answer without hesitation, he shook his head.

"Do not...stop..."

Her fingers continued their upward movement, skimming the swelling flesh to feel in the downy thatch of golden hairs that surrounded it. He let out a groan that was anything but pain when her fingers slid up to touch his abs, It took much not to push his hips up, to offer himself to her.

"Heal my beloved..." She whispered, leaning forward to place a light kiss just above. "we have much time..."

His hand came to cradle the back of her head, holding her kiss to that spot. It was a long moment before he let out a hitching and pained breath and his trembling hand lifted. She knew what he wanted, but could not do. She turned her head to give a second kiss, this one just as long. His hand came to rest upon her head again, fisting into the long damp strands.

"...Enough," It was sharp, as he tugged upon her hair. "I cannot..."

She raised her head, his amber gaze went a shade darker when she playfully flicked her tongue out to the side before she moved her body up to continue the application of the liniment.

"...Wicked wench." He murmured when her hands reached his sides. "You will be repaid for your...teasing."

She gave him a soft smile, the more she could draw him away from the pain, the less he'd feel her setting the broken bones.

"I will look forward to it..." She said, moving her fingers deftly up to his throat. "There...Now I need to go get something to wrap your ribs with..."

He gave out another groan when she lifted herself off, his very hardened manhood had been trapped between them when she had moved to apply the foul mix to his throat. It now was protesting its abandonment.

It by sheer will that he managed to calm his body, letting the warmth from her touch sink into the healing bruises. She returned, rolls of both soft and stiffened linen strips in her hands. She looked a bit disappointed, like a child who had had their favorite toy taken away. She let out a soft sigh and began her task. She knew release would be painful for him, perhaps denial would be more so.

"...Keep yourself wrapped tight, and go see one of the healers." She said, overlaying the soft strips with the stiffened ones. "I can only make sure you do not move about like a golem."

He knew she could not sing for him, her Guild Head had told him as much when he'd sent Wink the day after the Ogre had administered the beating. The child could not be risked, not after all that had been set to see its conception. He touched her belly after she had finished, the small spark brushed against his touch. The child's fete would be strong, for a tendril brushed up against his mind.

Fathair...? It was tentative, asking and genderless.

he pulled his hand away abruptly, he had not expected the brush of a small spirit against his own. His movement startled her enough to send her off the edge of the bed.

"What is it?"

"Nothing, the small movement startled me." He said. "You should be able to feel it in a few weeks..."

She rose, leaning forward to kiss his temple before moving to the other side and laying down.

He pulled her into his side, gently as her hand came to rest upon his heart; he put his hand over hers. It was a familiar enough sensation. He could not help but think of Nuala, they had lain like this as children. Each seeking comfort from the other, for hours on end while the court argued with their father to send them away. He realized the thoughts drifting through his mind could be picked up by the bond between he and Pen.

"...Forgive me, my sister has no place in our bed." He said softly, pulling a shield around his thoughts.

She reached up and began tracing the markings that seemed to stand out upon his skin.

"I bear no malice, your bond to her was first and thus the strongest..." She said, continuing the pattern. "But true, that love has no place in your bed..."

There was no tone of malice in her voice, nor none from the bond.

"...How can you love me without jealousy for the forbidden love I harbor."

She shook her head, "because I met the object of that love, spoke to her. She does not return the same love to you, and she knows the darkness in you..."

He had forgotten she had attended the Yule celebrations of his father's court. It would have been much like his sister to come to look upon the woman she felt sliding into her brother's heart.

"...You once said that love would be my end..."

"...Near a single being you and she..."

It took a moment for him to realize what she had said. He knew his sister would choose to fade rather than see the world destroyed once more.

"...Where one life goes, the other will follow..." He said, pulling her tighter to him. "Those were the words spoken to my mother hours before she died giving birth to me..." He removed her hand from his face. "My father did not know it for a curse then, but it became so as we grew older. Twins are rare enough among the Sidhe, but when the bruises I received appeared on her skin as well...We were looked upon as abominations, she and I."

"...That is when the rumors began." She said. "We are required to learn of court intrigue, past and present so that when we perform we can avoid them."

He traced the outline of a long-faded bruise upon her skin, the memory of that day in the market sharpened for a moment.

"...Then little songbird, you should have avoided me that day."

"I had all the child's eagerness to find the nearest sweet shop...I had been smelling cherry cordials for most of the day...and then there was the spun sugar..."

"...and now you have a taste for a much different sweet." He said, reaching behind her to the nightstand. "...I knew you would...ah...Yes." He winced when he pulled his arm back across. "...Take..."

It was a measure of silk, a large knot in the center. It had been the component in a game of love play, one he had much enjoyed. She looked at him, and then at the silk. She put her hands over his, looking into eyes shaded with something she couldn't read and gave only a shadow of its meaning.

"...are you sure of this, Silverlance. You spoke earlier of not being able and I do not need..."

"...Take..." He repeated, pulling his hands from hers. "The pain will heighten my release...I will tell you why in the light of day, for now...take..."

She closed her eyes as she fastened the silk around his head, his moth embracing the knot that would muffle the sounds he made. She touched along the mark before kissing down the unmarked side of his neck.

She was careful, though she knew he didn't want gentleness from her. She felt him set his teeth, the taste of silk along her tongue as he pressed against it. She paused to look up at his closed eyes, his hands gripping the rail of the headboard. She continued downward, capturing what she sought with her lips. His hips jerked when she made contact, she pressed them back down. He allowed her to hold him there, small movements against her hands. She looked up again to see one hand descending to cradle the back of her head.

It was a very long time later that she felt his touch change, the small movements more urgent. His breath hissed with each movement, a mix of need, pain, and effort to hold off his release. When she knew he could not hold out any longer, a soft trace with the tip of her tongue brought him bow taught and his fingers fisting in her hair. Even muffled the sound he made seemed to echo as his release coated her tongue with his essence. She heard the rail crack and felt pressed hard against his flesh as another cry escaped around the knot. There was a muffled sob as his hand slid away, and a sense of fear traveled their bond. She pulled away slowly, letting him soften completely before giving the sheathed tip one last slow caress.

He almost flinched from her when she reached up to untie gag from around his head. She saw his eyes open, a line of tears unshed glistened in them. She gently pulled the knot away and then sealed her lips to his. She used their bond to speak to him as she slid her tongue into his mouth.

Why...

The only answer was an image of him bound hand and foot upon her bed, what looked like bracelets on his upper arms and band around his throat. She had seen these things before in the market, naked men and women with only those adornments. Pleasure slaves, creatures sold for the carnal use of another.

His tongue met hers, and another image came. This one of her, her hair twined in his fist while he wore those things, his strong voice begging for her not to stop as her lips caressed flesh gone too sensitive from repeated actions.

I would not make you such... she sent as his hand took hers to rest upon his groin. You are too proud a warrior to...

The third image was of him kneeling before her with these things in his hands, his head bowed in surrender to her.  
His hand tightened around hers, she felt him swelling again.

A final image...She laying at his side, draped in the sheets while he lie naked. Her fingers caressing the royal marking while the marks of the bands faded from his skin. She got the impression of finger marks on his thighs and scratches furrowed on his lower back and sides also fading under her watchful gaze.

I do not fear the surrender... He said, his body still trembling from his release. Only your reaction to my want...

She pulled away, now she knew what had been in his eyes a short time ago, surrender. She had to wonder if even Nuala knew about...his mind opened for her too quickly for him to shield.

An image of Nuala presenting him with a gilded box upon their birthday, with an admonishment to open it only in his chambers. The image shifted, the open box containing the bands wrought in Mithril rather than the thin steel of the pleasure slaves. He looked at those items in awe, She had come a few moments later to fit them to him. The soft click of the locks making him sigh in pleasure. Another item was laid in his hands, Dragonhide wrapped rowan wood attached to plates of pixy braided dragon wing leather. Her only response to his astonishment was to show him the release for the hidden clasps on the bands and kiss his temple. In a soft voice, she wished him a happy birthday before she glided out of the room. The image faded as he laid the flogger lovingly in the box...

"...I did not mean for you to...That was a private memory." He said, realizing he'd opened himself too far. "...She said nothing of it after that, I kept them hidden...There has been no one I would..."

She put a finger to his lips. "...What is done is done and what is said is said..."

Now she understood what he meant when he said he belonged to her so many times in the last year. He had hidden it so long, so tight his control that this loss of it had frightened him. Even in love play, he had not surrendered.

"Know," he whispered. "You are the only one to whom I belong, my mistress, my lover...no matter what will befall..." He looked at her, then spoke softly in Sindarin.

A small voice in her head said the words, it was his voice.

"You are the one who I allow to bind me, the one who allows me surrender of my body...my soul"

She touched his face, tracing the pattern. This time he did not stop her, he let Reverie take him gazing into her green gaze.

Be here when I...

the gentle touch of her lips against the cup and ring markings on his temple was her reply.

He woke to find her gone, but not far. The gentle notes of her singing a lullaby to their unborn child sank into his stiffened muscles and warmed him. He looked to the nightstand, the silk knot was resting in easy reach. He had shown her a part of himself that had lain dormant for long ages, one that frightened him because of the ease of which he had slipped into it. He paused in his thoughts when he realized the bond was still open, unshielded. She stopped singing, and her footsteps came from where she had been. She had something in her hand, it was very small and appeared made of silk.

"I did not mean to disturb you..."

"You did not, My task was done..." She said, showing him what she had been working on. "...I had to make these..."

a pair of booties, in the royal colors of bone white and red. He picked one up, it was so tiny in his hand.

"The midwife said our baby will be small, like a child of the Sidhe..." She said. "Though I doubt it will feel small coming into the world..."

He turned the booty in his hand, he could not hide his awe that his child's foot would fit something so small. He set it down and reached to pull her beside him.

"...I promised an explanation of my actions last night."

"Yes, you did." She said, leaning forward to study his face. "You were frightened by your own surrender, and I must have my bed repaired..."

He looked up at the rail, a long crack marred the wood and the deeply embedded fingermarks were at the epicenter. For a moment she thought she saw the golden undertone to his skin darken slightly.

"The images I shared...I would kneel before you now with the signs of my...surrender." he said. "I would gladly wear the marks..."

"But you cannot, not with how much your people need you..." she said, reaching to brush away a strand of hair from his ear. "Your people have come first for so long, for this short time let yourself believe that you are just Nuada...not Silverlance, not Balor's son..."

"You would accept such from me...even if I must leave you and again hide away my desires in favor of my duty..."

"Nuada, for a year I shared my bed with you...just you...not your title or your quest." She said, leaning forward to touch her forehead to his. "When you are healed enough, bring me those things...I will gladly place the bands upon you...mark your skin with plaits of dragon leather..."

He closed his eyes, taking in a soft breath, and a single word came from his lips.

"Mistress..."

"No, Nuada, I am not your mistress...do not ever call me that. I am your lover, your sacred bride...your heir sleeps in my womb...I will be there for you when the stars fall and your strength fails you..."

His body relaxed, a tension he had not known he'd been holding drained out. His hand came to rest upon her belly again that soft brush and that genderless voice asking again. He couldn't answer, he knew he had no right to be called that by this small being whom he'd never know.

"...In a week, ask Wink for the silk-wrapped box in my belongings." He said, softly. "My bonds are within, as is the instrument to mark me yours..."

She let out a sigh, "You need to rest, I won't leave you..."

He lay back, her head came to lay against his shoulder as she again took up the lullaby. He let the sound pull him toward the edge of sleep, her arms gently circled around his waist.


	6. Nightmares and ledgends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nuada is shaken by a nightmare, Pen receives a bit of training from her prince and a visit to Lochain ending with a sparring match and a puzzle to who the Older Sidhe might have been long before the guild...

After near a week of Pen's almost undivided attention, Nuada felt a lot less bruised d and his body only ached if he pushed himself beyond simple forms. Now Lochain was paying him a visit. He expected the Guild head to come to speak to him a lot sooner, but the older sidhe must have known he wasn't up to visitors. He motioned for Lochain to take a chair by the fire while taking the one opposite. A mug of Goblin Chocolate and the remains of a quiet lunch lay on the table between. Pen was away, aiding the healers with the rounds they were making. It was obvious that Lochain didn't want her privy to their conversation.

  
"...It is my choice to let the illusion stand." Nuada said, picking up the mug and wrapping his hands around it. "and my choice to have a measure of peace..."

  
"...I did not come to argue your choices, Silverlance." Lochain said, pulling out a flask and taking a drink. "I came to ask will you let your vows to her stand when you depart..."

The pale prince looked into his mug, he knew his own hatred for humans would cloud any choice on the matter. He loved the young Singer, but he knew old hates would take even that away once he left the relative peace of the enclave. The bond would stand in his deepest heart, but to all else, it would become a strand of spider silk.

"...I take by your silence it will be No." He offered Nuada the flask. "But I have seen the Elven Star around her neck and its setting is unmistakable as your lance, at least to anyone who has eyes. The official records will list her child as a Scion of Bethmora, though the bonding won't be recorded in the official records...and the pendant labeled a rare gift."

Nuada looked at the flask, shaking his head. He did want her protected, her right to his lands so that if he passed. He wanted to ensure she and their child would be cared for. How he had rejected her so many weeks ago now came back to haunt him.

"My judgment is clouded enough by things I cannot cast aside..." He said. "I take it then only you and your guild will know the truth..."

"Certain members of the Royal house will know, your sister, your sire...the chamberlain." Lochain tucked away from the flask. "She will never take another you know, fate saw to that."

"If you're referring to our collision in the New York Toll market six years ago..."

"No, I am not. Though I did find it amusing it was you she collided with, she did not stop talking about the incident for a few weeks. Most wrote it off as what the humans call a

"crush" and that some patron would catch her eye in time. She hides it, but the mark is still there."

Nuada calmly set down the mug and rose. He rubbed a spot just below his sternum, realizing that was where she collided with him. Funny how now it ached when he was apart from her.

"...It is almost like a brand." Lochain said. "She does not advertise it because some would say it detracts from her beauty, Jaren especially."

Nuada turned at that name, "her father by right..."

"Jaren isn't her father, by right or blood. Though he likes to think himself such, he is none." Lochain pulled a small scroll from his robes. "I have her lineage here if you wish to read it..."

Nuada near tore the scroll from his hands and opened it, his eyes widening and narrowing in turns as he read the delicate chart in his hands. He then looked at Lochain, shaking his head, the name that headed the lineage was familiar though he could not place it.

"...Your name wasn't always Lochain, was it?"

The guild head shook his head. "No, it wasn't. I gave up that name when the war took the only thing I had lived for..."

"So it is true, you had a human bride...you withdrew the guild from the war..."

"She died in my arms, cursing the army and the warriors who followed after it." He said. "It is true I turned the guild, but old skills can die hard and there are those among it that can still be bought." He frowned. "You are the last of them...Our warriors..."

"Because I will not let my people fade..."

The guild head fixed the prince with a hard stare, then shook his head. The prince was the last warrior of their kind, determined to see them rule once more.

"No, because you survive." Lochain pulled out the flask again. "Those that marched in the army's shadow...they are fragments and dust scattered in tombs where they went to end the horrid screaming from the dead..."

Nuada froze, the scroll dropped from his fingers. "...The army...Curse?"

"You exiled yourself before you could be told, and by then there was no countering it. Many good men died because of it...the army rotted Bethmora because of it. You are fortunate in that you do not hear them, the dead..."

Nuada's breath hitched, he had not spoken of the sound that had awakened him for ages after he had gone into exile. Lochain saw his expression, one of abject fear and final understanding.

"Why do I not hear them here...?"

"Because they have already taken from you what you hold precious..."

Nuada bolted awake, screaming. After a few moments, his breath turned to pained gasps. He looked about the room, a basin sat on the nightstand and a single candle burned on the far side near the door. He turned to see the bed was empty save for him. He looked up as the door opened, she stood there in a simple night shift. He crawled into her lap when she came to sit upon the bed and began to sob.

"The child..." He managed between sobs.

Not even her gentle touch upon his head could completely banish the fear he still felt. Never before had a dream seemed so real to his senses nor held so dire a warning.

"Shush...I and the child are fine..." She said. "It was just a bad dream, You've been in reverie for two days..."

"I..."

"I went to see Wink after I lulled you to sleep." She said. "He told me why you let him near kill you this time..." She touched the bruise on his neck. "He thought he had...until you took your first shallow breath."

He put his arms around her waist and let another shudder wash over him.

"...my sister..."

She continued to gently touch, stroking away sweat-dampened strands. She knew he was frightened, it was something he was not used to.

"If you yet live, so does she..." Pen whispered. "You frightened me, when I couldn't wake you...you sank so deep..."

"...My sister..."

No one will take I or your child from you... Nuala's soft presence came over the twin bond. Be at peace...

It was not until much later that Nuada stopped trembling and sank into a healing sleep.

Days later...

Pen stood looking out the window of her cottage, her hands around a mug of warm spiced cider. She watched him split logs and planks with a will, as if the nightmare still rang in his head. She did not know how long the illusion would last against the nightmare still haunting him. He had already begun shielding her out, keeping his emotions behind a wall she could not breach. She had just gotten used to his presence twined with hers, even with him so close it disturbed her to feel so alone.

At a loss as to what to do, she took to wandering the woods herself. She was never surprised when Wink would appear at the edge of her awareness. Nuada still cared, the Ogre shadowing her footsteps was a testament to that. Her Katas and forms did little to focus her mind as they had before, and the movements became more of a challenge as her body changed. A rustle now and again in the trees would draw her attention, someone else was watching.

Once in a great while, it was Nuada's presence she felt shadowing her steps. He never spoke, only remained a silent presence standing at the edge of her awareness. She figured he must have been the watcher in the trees. Then one day he met her in the clearing, his shortened lance coming to rest under her chin, pricking her throat just above the pendant she continued to wear.

"...You will cease your training." He hissed, half sorry for the small trickle of blood forming on the point of the blade.. "I will not have you put my heir in danger..."

she looked down at the lance and then up at him, her eyes blazed with green fire.

"I will not be left defenseless when you abandon me..." she hissed back, taking a step away. "I will not be helpless..."

He pulled the lance away but did not move to touch her. He knew what she said was the truth, he would abandon her.

"You will be far from that, the Guild..."

"Will be my prison." She said. "I will be sent to a guildhall, kept apart from my fellows and lose the right to call my child my own."

"I will not leave you defenseless nor a prisoner..." He said. "...you deserve..."

He looked at her and then turned away, only to return with a staff. He swung at her head, the edge grazed off her temple as she bent backward to avoid the blow. He continued, swinging the staff and thrusting its end at vulnerable places. She moved and countered, sometimes barely being missed. Faster and faster he repeated the moves until she collapsed on the ground.

"Enough..." She said. "You made your point."

"Come tomorrow...we will begin again." He said, casting the staff aside and picking up his lance. "I will expect you at the cottage for dinner..."

She watched him walk away, stunned at his abrupt shift in temperament.

She returned to the cottage to see him standing with his back to her. Several large bruises blotched his back and side. Wink had acted as Jiminy Cricket again, and it meant that Nuada knew how much of an ass he had been earlier in the day.

"...I should not have yelled at you this morning..." He said, one arm moving to set a mug down on the table at his side. "I do not want to lose you or our child...too much hangs in the balance."

She made slow steps toward him and laid her hands and her cheek on his back. He let out a soft sound halfway between contentment and pain. He let himself smile, realizing she was only slightly taller than when she collided with him in the market. He picked up the mug again and took a long drink, realizing how little time had passed for him since that day.

"...I am older than the trees in the great redwood forests, yet a slip of girl not even a hand-span of that has undone me..." He whispered, tasting the bitter darkness on his tongue. "It is a cruel jest of the gods that I find love in one whom I have hated..."

She slid her arms around his waist, letting out a soft sigh. He set the mug down and rested his hands over hers, feeling the warmth of her against his back. He felt that little spark brush against his mind, wanting his answer.

Atar...Atara...?

He heard Pen's gasp, she must have heard as well. He was reminded the child was a mix of both of them. The little one must have thought those words would catch their attention.

"...They did not tell you." He said turning around, amusement in his voice. "Elvin children are sentient in the womb..."

"...They have not told me a lot of things..."

He placed his hand on her the small swell of her belly, hers came to cover his. The child reached again, brushing against their bond.

Atar...? a pause, unsure. Atara...?

Yes, little one, Atar and Atara. He answered.

sleepy, make Atara walk...I sleep good when she walks...

Nuada let out a short snort of laughter, then leaned down to put his forehead against hers.

"The little one wants you to walk, to be walked to sleep..." He said.

She echoed his laughter, "...Ok little one, I will walk."

He pulled her close to him and gently swayed with her in his arms, just as he had seen human males do with their women. He began humming, almost an echo of the lullaby

she had sung weeks ago. She lay her head on his shoulder, near drifting off with the small spark.

"...I will not see the child's first smile, or steps...first spoken words..." He said, softly. "But I will have this, to feel the first spark and feel it grow within you. I will have your love and you will have my surrender..."

Atara getting sleepy too... came a half-awake echo.

I know little one, she needs to sleep too...

Even before he could think it, he knew Pen was asleep in his arms.

It took some effort, but he gently cradled her against him and carried her to their bed. He was gentle as he stripped off her clothing. He frowned when he saw the bruises his lesson had left upon her, blooming purple against her skin. He knew there would be many more before the healers bared her from training. His only hope was that she would learn quickly, for they did not have much more time before the season turned and the truth of his return could not be hidden. He tucked her in without putting a gown on her and went back to the main room, debating wither he should ask Wink to beat him senseless again or talk to the head of her guild...Meeting with Lochain won out as Wink would probably just haul him to the lake and throw him into very chilly water.

Two days later...

Lochain greeted Nuada quietly with the offer of tea scented with some sort of mint. He looked at the pot and then at the guild head, leery from the dream. The older Sidhe must have noticed and moved the cup away.

"...What brings you to me, Silverlance."

He almost half wished the guild head hadn't used his title. He had come only as a man worried for the mother of his child.

"Pen...and the child." He said. "She said she would..."

Lochain looked at Nuada's expression and the way he held himself.

"She is more worried for you." Lochain said, pouring a bit of tea for himself. "The bruises are from the Ogre, are they not?"

Nuada hesitated. "Yes, Wink has a distinct way of reminding me how much of an ass I can be at times..."

"You must know she came to me after you came to her cottage only two days healed, she is not the meek creature my Guild brother takes her for...nor is she a fool."

Nuada knew Pen would have noticed the condition of the bruises and the broken ribs. She had only given in to his desire to distract him.

"I did not want her to worry about me." He said. "She will have enough when I..."

Lochain rose from his seat. "Do not think of battles that cannot be yet won. Walk with me, I have need to be among the trees..."

Nuada quietly followed Lochain, watching the older elf pause to retrieve something from a table.

Lochain said little as they moved among the greening forest. Mostly news from court and its further decline.

"...My sister..." Nuada asked.

"Is well, grieving but well..." Lochain said softly. "...Just ahead..."

Nuada noticed the clearing, his lips twitched when he picked up the faint traces of someone's tryst.

"The lovers are young...and new to this Enclave." Lochain said, also having picked up the faint traces. "Such promise..."

The next instant Nuada felt the butt end of a lance shoved into his gut.

"...What was that for..."

The butt end smacked him across the jaw. "Do not just stand there, Silverlance..."

Nuada dogged the next blow, reaching for his own lance. The one Lochain held was near identical, save for the etching on the blade.

"...What is the meaning of this..."

"You will find out soon enough...Namesake..."

Nuada blocked another blow, but Lochain's blade shaved skin off his arm.

If Lochain's words puzzled him, Nuada had no time to ponder them. The older Sidhe was a tad bit faster. Shallow cuts and scraps soon adorned Nuada from shoulder to waist and wrist. One thrust added another line to the one that marked him Royalty. Despite appearances, Nuada was enjoying himself. Lochain was making him work for every blow and strike.

The battle ended with Nuada's blade at the older Sidhe's gut and Lochain's at Nuada's throat. They would have both died painful deaths. Wiping the sweat from his eyes, Nuada noticed the faint mark that fell across the bridge of Lochain's nose. He could have sworn there was none there before.

"...You called me Namesake before..."

Lochain frowned and flexed his "off" hand. Looking at it and then at Nuada.

"...I wasn't always as I am Now..." He said. "Let us leave it at that, shall we."

Nuada watched the older sidhe turn to the woods and back to the enclave.

"...Namesake..." Nuada whispered. "Silver hand..."

Nuada looked at his own hand, wondering if he'd gotten his ass near handed to him by a ghost.


	7. A foot upon the path

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm picking this thread up after a long time, but it needs finishing so I can make the whole saga coherant...and since I originally wrote this in the mid-2000s, a few things have changed

Nuada returned to Pen’s cottage, grumbling. He pulled out a basin and pumped out cool water to treat the scrapes and pokes he’d received from Lochain’s blade. He was dabbing the cut on his arm when she came in.

“There you are…” She said. “It seems you’ve met with Lochain already…"

"Your guild head is a most unusual Male…” He said, dipping the rag back into the water to dab at the cut again. “...Most unusual.”

“Most would say that about him.” She said. “Let me see that…”

He almost protested when she took the rag from his hand and began dabbing the scrape herself.

“...He is...more than he seems.”

“Lochain has always been like that.” She said, frowning as she turned to open a cupboard and bring out a jar sealed with green wax. “Believe me, he can have a sharp temper if you do something stupid or just plain ignorant.”

“Such as?”

“One of our bards decided to try to solar power an amplifier, worked decent on its own but then the idiot cranked it and plugged in...well an electric Lute for lack of better description...and tried and I do mean tried to get it to do the same thing one of the human world would...guild hall smelled like burnt wire and fabric and hair for a week.”  
He found that amusing, though he didn’t know why.

“And the bard who attempted such blasphemy?”

“Somewhere in the goblin kingdom, I think…” She said breaking the wax seal and opening the jar. “...headlining a bog tour.”

Just the image to him was even more amusing, he guessed that was the point.

“Trying to cheer me, songbird…” He said as she applied some of the paste-like salve from the jar. “You do that with your presence…”

She smiled, “...Would that my presence always make you so.”

He let her apply the salve, wincing as it sank into the long scrape on his arm.

“...After our child is born...I’d like it if you lived in the market in New York.”

“I was kind of planning on it...close to court and we have a major guildhall there.”

He knew they should not talk of the future since beyond this place they could have none.

“...Will you raise our child there?”

“No, he will remain here...away from the court intrigues.”

She did not tell him that it was to be away from his madness, but he knew that was why. He lifted her chin to look at him.

“No matter my feelings upon your people...Our child…”

She shook her head. “...I was raised among yours, I am Sidhe in all but body and life span.”

He was reminded again that she was different, a child of Anglin as they liked to call themselves.

“...I forgot that there are humans who would turn from their own to see the land healed.”

“We are few, who remember...we are of one blood Yea and I.”

He wondered of the poet who put those words to paper, ‘We are of one blood…’

“...I need to go find Wink.” He said. “If I am to have a pleasant night…”

“Do not come home broken…” She said. “I will leave you to finish this on your own.”

He watched her walk away, all the better she did before he said the wrong thing that really did get his ass kicked by his Troll companion.

Pen returned to her cottage a few hours after having walked out before she or Nuada had said something that would shatter the fragile link between them. He was not there but had cleaned up after himself. She did not expect him to be there, but Lochain was.

“...He is at the tavern,” Lochain said softly. “...venting his opinions.”

“Giving Wink a reason to beat Civility into him again no doubt.” She said as she hung up her cloak. “He relies too much upon the troll...his loss…”

“...You know this, he does not…” Lochain said. “I was a little zealous this morning, I’m sorry.”

“You certainly shook him.” She said. “I am glad that you are here, or else I would have freed my self from my apprenticeship…”

“That, little pearl, would be a messy venture.” He said. “...but as of this moment, you are a Journey maid, and have no need for a direct master.”

She smiled, “Then I can tell him to sod off…”

“Use something a bit stronger, your blade if you must.” He said. “I do not trust your master, and I regret that I ever chose him for you…”

“But now it is done.” She said. “I have not need of him...He will never accept Nuada as my choice will he?”

“No, he thinks you foolish…” Lochain said. “You are not in this, nor in wanting more…”

He knew she’d fallen for one of her teachers, the Half-Drow named Aethen.

“I would put no more horns on my stag…” She said softly. “And Aethen likes boys mostly…”

“You may have to one day...for your own safety.”

“I know, but it does not make it any easier in the choice.” She said.

“The choice isn’t as far as you think.” Lochain said. “Get some rest, I will go extract your wayward prince before he says something that will get him more than a fist…”

She nodded, “...Do not bruise him too badly.”

Lochain laughed as he rose, intending to give the Prince another target for his anger other than the Troll.

_The next morning…_

Nuada stumbled into the common room of the guest house groaning. Between the hangover and his aching fists, it was not a pleasant way to wake up. He found Willow bark powder and a large flask of water waiting, with the note he was to take the powder and drink all of the water then return to bed. He let himself smile, as the note was in Pen’s hand.

“As my lady wishes…” He said softly, downing the powder and then the water.

He made his way back to the guest quarters and put himself face down on the bed until his head stopped being used for a festival drum. He drifted back to sleep, wondering if he could keep a civil enough tongue to go see his songbird a bit later.

_That evening…_

Nuada made his way to Pen’s cottage, a basket of food and a small pot of stew in his hands. He’d decided he’d not had a civil tongue when he’d awakened again. He’d gone into the wood and stalked the woodland creatures for a short while before bringing a few rabbits to the cook for the stew which he now carried to Pen.

He set the basket down and knocked, surprised to see her damp from the small hip bath he saw at the hearth. He leaned down and kissed her, gently.

“I brought dinner.” He said, gesturing with the pot. “Fresh rabbit stew, a few bread loaves, cheese…”

She smiled and reached out to pull him in, pausing to pick up the basket.

Dinner was delicious, warm and they took turns feeding each other. He took delight in her expression when he dribbled a bit on her chest and licked it off.

“Yum…” He said softly smiling at her. “Tastes even better…”

She smiled at him. “...I have a pot of honey in my stores…”

He laughed softly. “Desert..”

She kissed him, pulling him close.


	8. surrender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Nuada has a thing for pain and all acts are consensual...

Pen knew the quiet days could not last, and it was proven when one night Nuada showed up at the cottage greatly intoxicated. He sneered at her, and attempted to assault her. It was a swift knee and her left hook that solved that problem as she left him on the porch to sober up while she found refuge behind a stout, locked door.

He was gone in the morning, she sighed in resignation. Wink had most likely come and carried him off like a sack of grain. She left to go get her breakfast from the communal hearth rather than have it be brought to her at the cottage. She did not wish to stay cooped up inside with spring fast approaching. She did not expect to come across him before she reached the communal hearth.

  
“...Where are you going little songbird…” It was a growl, low, and seductive.

  
Signs said he was still drunk or had been sober only a short while since waking. Her knee and a cold night upon the porch had done little to cow him.

  
“Breakfast…” She said moving past him.

  
He grabbed her arm, spinning her to press her against the tree he was under. She could smell alcohol he’d drunk. It took a lot to get a Sidhe drunk, so it said he’d gone for the stronger and illicit moonshine rather than the brewer’ finest.

  
“I have something better…” He purred into her ear. “Your favorite sweet…”

  
She struggled, and his grip tightened. He pressed her close with his body.

  
“...I have found no desire for it as of late.” She said. “Now let me go...”

  
“I can make you desire it again…” He said and released her hands only to have a right cross knock him away. “Wench…”

  
She dodged his lunge and caught him in the gut with a second hard right. He crumpled to the ground while she moved past him.

_**A short while later…** _

Lochain found her with her hand submerged in a snowbank. She had bruised her hand on the last punch. He approached and lifted it out to look it over.

  
“You forgot to tuck your thumb…” He said looking over the injured appendage. “It will be sore for a while, you bruised it...”

  
“I had to act quickly…” She said, embarrassed.

  
“Wink tossed him into the millpond, twice.” Lochain said. “He has been stalking around the woods since...He’ll stay out of the tavern tonight if he has any inclination of returning to you.”

  
“I doubt it will be any time soon.” She said.

  
“...I can give you a bit of advice.” He said. “Do not be too harsh when he shows up tonight with dinner for you…”

  
“You think the dunking got through?”

  
“No, but the promise of a warm fire and dry clothes will…”

  
She considered it, “But he’s sleeping next to the fire…”

  
Lochain laughed softly.

True to her mentor’s word, Nuada showed up at her door with a meal and looking like he’d been half defrosted. He was shaking with cold, not having enough sense to shed his wet clothing after pulling himself out of the pond a second time.

  
“Take off those wet clothes…” She said. “Wrap yourself in a blanket and sit by the fire...I have clothes when you are dry…”

  
He set down the pot and basket and began to strip off his clothing as he made his way to the fire. She set the pot by the fire watching him shake as he wrapped himself in the fire warmed blanket and tried to get warm. He noticed her hand was wrapped, he frowned at this.

She served up the meal, making sure he had a good grip on the bowl. She knelt down pushing the damp hair from his face. There was fear in his eyes as if some part of him did not want to anger her or lose her.

  
“...Beloved.” She said softly.

  
He turned away from her, not wanting her to see the pained expression on his face. He didn’t want her to worry, but his heart was beating hard against his ribs. He grimaced, he was hurting but he did not mind the pain.

  
“...Wink tried aiming for the middle,” he whispered. “Hit the ice…Just a bruise.”

  
Her hand went down and between his skin and the blanket, He hissed in a bit of pain. There was a deep bruise on his ribs. She moved her hand to his abs, her punch had also left a mark. He frowned but did not move away from her touch. She could see it in his eyes, he wanted but would not ask.

  
“...The cold numbed it, I hurt now.” He whispered.

  
She kissed his lips lightly.

  
“...Eat, I will get some numbing salve.” She said moving her hand from his skin.

  
His hand moved from the bowl and caught her wrist, shaking his head.

  
“No, Let me be with my pain...I deserve it.” He said softly. “Go, eat…I will be fine.”

  
She nodded and went to make her own meal.

She watched him shiver for a good hour before he was dry and halfway warm. She brought clothing. She watched him painfully put them on, ignoring her worried expressions. He kept the blanket around him for the extra warmth. He watched her sit across from him, her expression still worried.

  
“...Why do you worry so of me...When The child is born I will walk away from you.”

  
She looked up at him, then down at her meal. He rose painfully and walked the few paces to stand before her.

  
“I asked why do you care for me.” His tone was more forceful.

  
She looked up at him, then rose herself.

  
“If you have to ask that question, I mean nothing to you.” She said as she moved passed him.

  
He caught her arm, pulling her back. He abruptly let her go when he saw the look on her face.

He continued to sit at the hearth as he heard Pen move around the cottage, preparing a place for him to sleep. He did not believe she would share her bed with him, not after the last two days. He watched the fire, warming himself. He saw her come back to the fire, sitting down across from him again.

  
“I have a place for you to sleep…” She said and rose again. “It should be warm.”

  
He heard her going to her room, leaving him to sit by the fire.

_**The next morning…** _

He pulled himself out of the small mound of blankets she’d provided him, his body aching. He did not feel well, his side ached in time to his pulse. Food sat on the hearth table but found he had no appetite when he reached it. He felt dizzy and stumbled back to the pile, groaning as he collapsed on his injured side. He managed to pull the blankets over himself and drift off in a haze of pain.

_**Some hours later…** _

Gentle fingers brushed sweat-damp hair from his face, he turned to see Pen sitting upon a stool beside the bed. Someone had gotten him from the floor, most likely Wink had come looking and aided her. Her hand pulled away, an expression of sorrow upon her face. He knew why she had that expression, because of him.

  
“...You should have come after Wink tossed you in a second time.” She said softly. “It would have saved you a bit of pain...”

  
He watched her rise, her hand pressing to her just rounding belly. His child, his legacy. He had said he’d walk away, leave her to lose her child to the guild and to be restricted to one of the markets.

  
“...Are you well?” He asked his voice a dry whisper.

  
She smiled, He was burning with fever and was worried of her. She leaned forward and brushed more hair from his face.

  
“...Yes, just a bit of nausea.” She said. “It is common for pregnant Females…”

  
He closed his eyes again, turning from her. She walked away, knowing he wouldn’t talk to her without an insult.

_**In another part of the enclave...** _

Aethen frowned at Lochain, knowing why he’d been summoned to the enclave. He was to watch over Pen, and her unborn child. He loved her, and not as a mentor or friend, though had not acted upon his feelings.

  
“...I know about the affection you have for her.” Lochain said. “There is no shame in it.”

  
He frowned, had his feelings been that obvious, or was it for some other end Lochain was asking of him.

  
“Then you know I will not act upon it…She is not mine.” Aethen said. “Nor can she be...”

  
Lochain knew there was much guilt for the feelings the half-elf had for Pen.

  
“...She will need you, all the more when the Prince walks away.”

  
“You are so sure of this…” He frowned.

  
“Yes, and with Jaren no longer her master…”

  
“You finally told him to sod off eh.” He smiled softly.

  
“I should have done it after She arrived here…” Lochain said softly.

  
“...Why does she love that...unstable...bastard.” Aethen said. “He will bring her nothing but pain.”

  
“You remember the night’s she’d wake screaming…”

  
Aethen frowned, wondering why he would bring up Pen’s nightmares.

  
“Yes, all of blood and stone and the army’s awakening…” He said. “Those were long nights…”

  
“Yes, She spent many a night in the library avoiding sleep.”

  
“No wonder she’s not afraid of Dettlaff and Regis…” He said, shuttering a bit.

  
“They indulged her, she knows a bit of their language too…”

  
Aethen looked at his guild head and old friend.

  
“What would you have me do?”

  
“Be there for her…” He said. “I have something in mind, but I must read of it and decide if it is the right course…”

  
Aethen frowned, he knew that tone from his guild head. It meant something that danced upon a blade’s edge, one that could cause a disaster if not handled well.

  
“This thing you wish to do…”

  
Lochain shook his head, he’d tell the half-elf when it was time.

_**A few days later, Pen’s cottage…** _

She chopped up a few root vegetables and cubed the small roast the communal kitchen had delivered to her door so she would not have to leave to eat. A simple stew would suffice for dinner. She checked the other pot over the fire, chicken noodle soup bubbled within. She knew Nuada did not eat much meat, but the soup would aid in healing.

She heard him moving about in the small guest room, trying not to intrude upon her cooking. He’d fled the kitchen when she’d lobbed a potato she’d been peeling at his head. She allowed herself a small smile, his behavior said they were back to being lovers again. The shifts in his behavior troubled her, but until he asked of her what he needed she would wait.

_**In the guest quarters…** _

Nuada sat with the ornate box before him, Wink had brought it upon his request. His fingers roaming over the plaited falls of dragon wing leather. He’d said he’d give his surrender, and he had not. He was a fool not to have asked sooner, after that night. He pulled his hand away and closed the box. All he had to do was ask, and he could get the clarity he craved without being tossed like a rag doll. He opened the box again, looking at the bands wrought in silver. Tonight, he would ask her tonight. He closed the box again, inhaling the scent of soup from the kitchen.

_**A while later…** _

Nuada excused himself from the table upon finishing the simple meal of soup, bread, and honey butter. Upon returning the communal guest quarters where he had his pack. He ignored Wink’s puzzled expression as he rummaged through the clothing within until he came up with his kilt. He knew this would please her, to have him wear the garment again. He tucked the black and red garment under his arm and returned to her cottage.

She paused in cleaning up when he appeared in the doorway. She stood for a moment, he strode to her. He took a breath. She noticed the kilt under his arm. He met her eyes, though that felt wrong for what he was asking.

  
“...I desire…” He whispered. “please…”

  
She stepped closer to him, He took in another breath.

  
“Tell me…” She said, her voice soft. “Tell me your desire.”

  
He heard the soft command, He dropped his gaze to his boots.

  
“To surrender…”

  
She reached out to touch him, so she could read his face and eyes. His intake of breath made her pause. She knew if this path was chosen there would be no going back upon it. He licked his lips.

  
“...Are you sure of this.” She asked softly. “Do you want this between us…”

  
He looked down at the fabric in his hands.

  
“I promised you my surrender, I...Wish to keep that promise.”

  
“Silver hart,” She said softly.

  
“I need to prepare…” He moved into his quarters.

  
She sighed moving to follow.

She found him standing before the box and his kilt laid out upon the bed. He heard her soft steps, reaching in for woven dragon leather before turning and walking to meet her half-way across the floor.

  
“...I offer.” He knelt down offering her the flogger as he bowed his head. “My self...my flesh…”

  
She took the leather from his hand, “Rise and prepare yourself for me…”

  
He rose shaking as he returned to the box, lifting out the silver bands. His hands were shaking, near uncontrollable. So many things through his head. He turned to her hands taking his, steading them.

  
“We do not have to go passed this tonight…” She said softly.

  
“No, I need to give you this...for myself.” He said, backing from her a bit to pull his tunic off and the loose shirt. “...With this, I give you the one thing I will give no one else, not even my sister...”

  
She touched over his heart before his hand covered hers. He was giving her a side of himself no one but her would know, none but her would touch. He knew what ate at him, that darkness he’d fought for so long.

  
“...I meant what I said that night, I am yours.” He said. “No other…” He let her hand go to work on the rest of his clothing. “Not even…”

  
She put a finger to his lips. “She has no place between us...not with this or in our bed.”

  
He moved passed her and began to don and fasten his kilt. His fingers still trembled, he felt her hands again. He smiled at her as he reached up to plait his hair out of the way. The short plait would allow her to Control him as well.

  
“...I will acquire softer bands to remain in your keeping…” He said softly, taking out the metallic restraints. “These will dig hard and I do not wish Wink to know I have indulged in this…”

  
“You have not before?” She asked. "We played at such..."

  
“Outside of that night, that was a distraction...once in a market brothel, from one quite skilled…” He said ruefully. “Wink did not think it was healthy for me…”

  
“And him beating the crap out of you is?” She said, then pulled him down for a forceful kiss.

  
He melted against her, letting her slide her tongue into his mouth to war with his own. He felt her wrap the short plait around her hand and tug, hissing at first with the gentle pain of his hair being pulled.

He gasped hen her kiss left his lips and to his throat, then the bite. She would not need to stripe him if she kept the pressure of her teeth. He closed his eyes in ecstasy, this was what he wanted, need from her for his transgressions. Her bite moved, testing the muscle of his shoulder and then his side, then the scrape of her teeth across his abs and the fading bruises to take care of the other side. All he could do was focus upon standing until his legs gave out.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Wink Kicks Nuada's ass on a regular basis. Its the only way some things get through his arrogance...usually when he's being an ass about said thing.


End file.
